


We Were Running Against the Wind

by outruntheavalanche



Series: Exchange Fic [17]
Category: Alex Delaware Series - Jonathan Kellerman
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Friendship, Gen, Life Changes, Male Friendship, Mention of Robin and Rick, POV First Person, Retirement, Road Trips, community: nightonficmountain, nightonficmountain 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: When Milo finally retired, I thought that would be the end of our consultations and, likely, our working relationship/friendship.





	We Were Running Against the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinx_r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinx_r/gifts).



> Written for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tinx_r/profile)[**tinx_r**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tinx_r/) for [](http://nightonficmountain.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**nightonficmountain**](http://nightonficmountain.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
> Robin and Rick are mentioned but the relationships aren't a big part of the story.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/grisecklie/profile)[**grisecklie**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/grisecklie/) for looking this over!
> 
> Title from "Against the Wind," by Bob Seger.

When Milo finally retired, I thought that would be the end of our consultations and, likely, our working relationship/friendship. I fully expected him to dive into post-employment life and take up hobbies to fill his time, things like golfing, tennis, maybe even a little hunting or fishing or camping.

But not Milo. If anything, our consultations increased in frequency. Milo took the odd case here and there, a missing grandma, squabbling neighbors, a cheating spouse, a stolen set of golf clubs. Certainly not the kind of stuff Milo would have even thought of entertaining earlier in his career. 

When I finally asked him about it, Milo paused mid-chew, a half-eaten sandwich poised in front of his mouth. 

He set the sandwich down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

“I’m a freelancer now,” he said. “I do private consultations.” 

“But a missing poodle? Stolen golf clubs?” I’d asked. “It all just seems…beneath you.”

“Hey, now,” Milo scolded. He lifted his sandwich back up and picked some napkin fluff off of it. “That’s somebody’s missing dog.”

I sighed. “I just… Don’t you miss the daily grind? More stimulating cases?”

Milo chewed thoughtfully. “Not really. The gal they replaced me with’s a real sharp one. And thirty years younger. Not completely jaded…yet. Still loves coming to work every day,” he said, swallowing and going for a swig of beer. “Me, I’m actually enjoying helping these people. Forgot what it felt like to actually _enjoy_ what I do. Ya know?”

The thing of it was, I _did_ know. I could remember being burnt out, a smoking shell of myself, in the early years of our acquaintance. I could remember dreading going to work. It was working with Milo that had given me my sense of purpose back.

Maybe that was part of it. Maybe I was worried about what would happen to me, to our friendship now that Milo was no longer working for the police department.  

“You got something on your mind,” Milo said. “Spit it out, doc.”

I laughed wryly. “Just thinking,” I said, pussyfooting around what I actually wanted to say.

“Uh _huh_ ,” Milo said slowly. 

“I guess I’m wondering where this leaves us,” I said.

“Like, as friends? Business partners?” Milo asked.

“Yes,” I said, with a slight smile.

Milo finished off the sandwich and pushed the plate away, leaning back from the kitchen table. He patted his considerable paunch, almost thoughtfully. “I was thinking about that,” he said. 

“Yeah?” I leaned back too.

“I got all this free time,” he said. “We ought to take a road trip somewhere. Rent a convertible, get the wind in our hair.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Whaddaya think this is, _Thelma and Louise_?”

“I’d hope not,” Milo said. “Don’t they die at the end?”

“Point made,” I said. “So, a road trip huh?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation—a real, honest-to-God vacation—in decades,” Milo said. “Not even with Rick.”

“Wait, you’ve been with Rick for nearly three decades and you’ve never taken a vacation together?” I asked.

“Somebody’s always out there needing help,” he said with a slight shrug. “Murder doesn’t go on vacation.”

I rolled my eyes. “Very deep.”

Milo flipped me off, then tucked his arms across his chest. “So, trip. You and me.”

I thought about that. The idea of just throwing my cares to the wind and going on a road trip with my longest, best—and, arguably, only—friend was appealing. I had no current obligations, being that I was mostly retired myself unless Milo needed me to consult on a case. Robin had taken Blanche with her and gone on a trip of her own, so I wouldn’t need to worry about arranging a kennel stay.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

I felt like a twenty-something again. I hadn’t done anything this impulsive since I made the decision to leave the Midwest behind for the hazy perfection of Los Angeles.

***

Milo loaded up his SUV with a folded up tent and a faded nylon duffel bag, while I brought my laptop, a slim manila folder of cases I was reviewing for a fellow doctor, a sleeping bag, and some toiletries.

As we piled in and Milo started fussing with a GPS system, I pulled out my phone and checked my texts.

**Be safe, hon! Love you, see you when you get back**

I smiled and sent a text back to Robin: **You don’t have anything to worry about. See you soon.**

“How’s my favorite lady doing?” Milo asked, setting the GPS back on the dashboard.

“Robin?” I asked, tucking my phone back in my pocket.

“No, Blanche,” he deadpanned.

“The blonde beauty is doing just fine and sends you her love,” I joked.

Milo grinned as he fired up the SUV and pulled out of my driveway.

“What can I say?” Milo’s grin widened. “I’m a ladykiller.”

***

The first stop on our trip was a mostly empty campgrounds, save a pickup truck packed with college coeds intent on savoring the first long days of the summer.

Milo found a nearby grill and I worked on setting up our tent to the soothing sounds of millennial chatter and the clinking of overpriced bottles of beer.

When the tent had been pitched and the hot dogs grilled, Milo and I sat at a nearby bench and enjoyed a simple dinner in the face of the setting sun.

“Couldn’t’ve picked a better day,” Milo muttered over a swig of beer. “Looks like God Himself reached down and painted the sky.”

I turned my head and admired the sunset, slashes of pink and purple spreading like ink on pale blue parchment. Perfection.

“Chicken soup for the battered soul,” I agreed, finishing off my hot dog and brushing crumbs off my hands.

Milo brushed crumbs off hs pants. “Haven’t slept in a tent since before puberty,” he chuckled.

“I never have,” I admitted.

“Not big on camping in the Midwest?” Milo sat back and kicked up his feet on top of a cooler of beers.

“That’s the kind of thing kids did with their dads and brothers,” I said, with a shrug. “I didn’t have any.” 

Milo _hmph_ ed. “Well, you’re just making up for lost time now.”

***

After a couple days at the campgrounds, Milo and I moved on to our next stop in his itinerary—I didn’t even know he had an itinerary—a cozy, family-run motel.

The motel manager, an elderly woman with a chainsmoker’s cough, eyed us suspiciously, as if she thought we were some rabblerousing kids come to kick up a ruckus. But she still happily took our money and directed us to a nice, clean room.

I played a round of text message tag with Robin, while Milo chatted with Rick in low tones on the other bed.

I put on the TV and flipped through stations until I found the score to the Dodgers game.

Milo finished his call with Rick and set his phone down on the nightstand between our beds.

“Rick says hi,” he said.

I pulled up Robin’s texts and held my phone out to Milo, who peered in. She’d sent **blanche sends her love!** and attached a picture of our smiling French bulldog.

Milo chuckled and sat back. “Love that kid like she was my own.”

I settled back on the bed and tucked my arms under my head. I could hear rare rainfall pattering against the roof and lashing at the windows. Neither of us had any more pressing obligations waiting for us. The only thing we had waiting was a seemingly endless stretch of road leading to wherever we wanted to go.

Milo hummed to himself and I listened to the rain for a little while longer.

“Thought retirement might drive me crazy, at first,” he said, cutting into the silence like a warm knife through butter. “Started wondering if I made a mistake, taking my out and bolting when I did. Technology’s just getting better and better, we got more tools than ever to take these bastards down. I could’ve stayed on.”

“Yeah?” I asked, more to prompt him to continue on than out of curiosity.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess… I guess I wanted to leave before I hated it. Before I dreaded waking up in the morning.”

“Before you got like me,” I said, with a wry smile.

“I guess when you put it like that.” Milo chuffed out a laugh that made his paunch jiggle like Jell-o. He patted his belly. “Gonna join a gym.”

I laughed. “Heaven forfend.”

“I got all this time on my hands now, doc. Might come to you for a mental tune-up,” he joked.

I laughed some more. “Conflict of interest.”

Milo picked up a pillow and swung it at my head. It bounced harmlessly to the mustard-yellow shag carpet.

I let myself drift off, cradled comfortably in bed, surrounded by my best friend’s delighted laughter.

***

Milo and I walked back into my kitchen four days later, lightly tanned and feeling refreshed. I’d grabbed some dog treats at a gas station on the way home. Blanche came running at the sound of crinkling plastic, her nails tap-tap-tapping on the linoleum.

I stooped down and held out the doggie treats, which she lapped up with greedy swipes of her pink ribbon of a tongue. I scratched her between her ears and she tap-danced in front of me and licked affectionately at my face.

“There’s my girl!” Milo nudged me aside and Blanche leapt into his waiting arms.

“You spoil her.” I watched on in amusement as Blanche drenched Milo with slobbery kisses.

He cradled her against his chest like she was a baby. “She’s my favorite girl.”

“Don’t let Robin hear that,” I joked.

“Robin knows Blanche is my favorite girl,” Milo scoffed, as Blanche nuzzled and snuffed against his chin.   

I laughed and gave Blanche another scratch between her floppy ears. “I suppose you have a point.”

Milo let Blanche down and she skittered off, panting happily. “We oughta do that again sometime,” he said, resting an elbow atop the counter. “That was more fun than I was expecting.”

“Exactly how much fun _were_ you expecting?” I asked, with a smile.

“I was expecting a lot more Freudian pontificating,” Milo said, leaning in and giving my shoulder a firm squeeze.

Then Milo pulled me into a hug. Milo wasn’t much of a hugger and, to be honest, neither was I. Milo had a rough-and-tumble childhood and became a gruff no-nonsense, by-the-book cop. I’d grown up unused to physical affection—or any sort of affection, really. So, neither of us were very good at it.

I put my arms around Milo and squeezed back, before letting go and giving him a manful pat on the chest.

“See you around, big guy?” I asked.

“For sure,” he agreed, offering a wide, face-splitting grin. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. You’re gonna get sick of me.”

“Doubtful,” I said, grinning back. “Can’t wait.”


End file.
